


you make me feel like i am whole again

by thekawaiicupcake



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: M/M, i haven’t written fic in like.....[redacted] years so if you hate it that’s valid!!!, takes place the morning after vendredi 23:52, tw: discussion of suicide and self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24214678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekawaiicupcake/pseuds/thekawaiicupcake
Summary: a snooping lucas listens, and falls for his boyfriend. all over again.
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 8
Kudos: 115





	you make me feel like i am whole again

**Author's Note:**

> this is me attempting to manifest something that i would love to see in the next clip :))))))) hope you like it! i’m very, very rusty, but this was fun. lemme know if you want more in the future!
> 
> please heed the tags and stay safe, darlings! x

The first thing a frigid Lucas Lallemant feels as he stretches a hand over the left side of the bed is nothing but the smooth expanse of the cold midnight blue sheets.

Mornings have become his favorite time of the day, as impossible as it seems in his mind. When you’ve been alone for so long, you learn to leave and return to only yourself....These days, he takes his time when he wakes up, using his senses and saving the best one for last; long, thick eyelashes fluttering open to look at his entire world, in his arms. Eliott’s sleeping habits are similar to that of a cat’s: he even gives a tiny purr when Lucas’ fingers make their way into his hair, tightening as nails scratch his scalp in the sweetest way. 

Almost tripping after getting his foot caught in a part of the blanket that hung off the edge of the bed (at least no one got to witness that,) Lucas adjusts it and folds a sliver of the top of the blanket and sheets so it’s nice and tidy, a habit that he hasn’t kicked since he was nine years old that was drilled into him by his angry drill sergeant aunt Charlotte that summer. “Interesting technique, maman” Eliott had lightly teased him about it one morning during their first week living together. Eliott’s bedside manner is funnily also reminiscent of a certain Jackson Pollock; a t-shirt nonchalantly flung onto the floor, a snapback soaring through the air and landing no where near their perfectly functional dirty clothes hamper. Lucas finds his brown jacket in the same place every time it isn’t being worn; messily scattered across the living room couch. It would be annoying had he not adored picking it up and hanging it in their closet himself. And maybe smelling it. A little. Whatever. 

“You gonna iron my shirts for me too?” he smiles fondly, remembering threatening to kill him if he revealed his dorky neatness to anyone.

Lucas is about to flounce into their living room with partially feigned annoyance after waking up without Eliott there, but his morning grogginess has worn off mostly, and he hears a voice. A tired, female voice. Okay, maybe put on some pants, then. He looks for his grey sweats that are usually tossed on the dresser but doesn’t see them anywhere, so he opens a drawer and steals his boyfriend’s black basketball shorts and tip toes out to the hall, ears open to the conversation taking place.

As he peeks over the edge of the wall, he sees Lola seated on the couch, her arms wrapped tight around her tucked legs. There’s the purple pillow and blanket beside her that Lucas gives to le gang whenever they want/need to crash. So, that means that she spent the night here. Why didn’t he know that? Wasn’t he supposed to know that? Then the night before flickers for a second, and he remembers why he’s not remembering. 

He had went out with Yann, Arthur, and Basile with the innocent plan to only have a few beers. Honest to god. 

Six Corona beers and three shots of....he didn’t bother to read the label of vodka, what’s currently sticking is a lot of screaming to *NSYNC’s entire discography. Oh god, he doesn’t even remember getting home. Did he get back before them? Or did Lola witness the horror of an inebriated Lucas, stumbling into the apartment with his hair in complete disarray, yelling a greeting only intended for one person to hear? He scrubs his left hand over his face, sighing. It’s a damn miracle he has the power of thought right now; normally he’d be out of commission after a night like that, tight lipped and sporting a migraine the size of a bowling ball.

Lola looks so despondent, however, that it snaps Lucas out of his temporary downward spiral of questions.

She whispers something so broken, so quietly that he thinks for a second that he imagined the words.

“You don’t have to waste your time pitying me, i’ve done enough of that myself.”

Amid the tension-filled silence, he takes the time to finally look at his boyfriend. Eliott is perched on the coffee table in front of her, a nervous hand up against his lips, rubbing across them back and forth. Somehow, his beauty still knocks the wind out of him, even in an outfit as casual as a black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants. His grey sweatpants. 

He watches as Eliott scrunches his face up and says with a shrug, “Pity isn’t the right word here. Concerned? Absolutely.”

“You don’t have to worry about me, i’m—“

“Fine? Okay. And i’m a member of The Cure.” At that, he can see Eliott revel in Lola’s ghost of a smile.

“Huge fan. Lovesong is the magnum opus of love songs,” she says with an air of facetiousness, and Lucas has to put a hand over his mouth, almost letting out a chuckle.

“I just want you to know that you can talk to me, you know. Not necessarily about last night, I mean...whatever you’re feeling. Whatever you’ve been feeling.” he puts his hands up in defense afterwards, quietly mumbling “It’s annoying as fuck. I know that better than anyone, trust me. It does help, though.”

They both look at each other after that, a silent moment of mutual dissatisfaction about the seriousness of the conversation. Lucas’ heart swells at the intimacy of it; two souls more similar than they realize. Whatever happened last night, he hopes that Lola is able to heal from it, as well as the other hardships she’s had to face.

Fumbling with a lose thread in the couch, Lola looks away before blurting out “It’s just—it’s been a lot. for a while. I’ve been holding it in for so long, I don’t know how to let it out without.....” she balls her hands into fists, “...exploding, or something.”

“Good thing you’re talking to me; I am the fucking king of non-verbal aggression and pent up rage.”

She nods before continuing. “Have you ever....like, when you look at yourself in the mirror, do you see yourself? I feel like I haven’t even recognized myself in years.” Eliott’s eyes trail down to the floor as he gives a faint “All the time.” Lucas feels tears beginning to well up. 

“I don’t know. Most of the time, I feel like i’m a corpse on a planet of life. Estranged family, zero friends.” Lola’s voice begins to sound strangled as she utters “And the worst part about it is, all I feel I can do is sit and watch it happen. Like, I can’t move. I can’t save myself.”

Eliott keeps his off of her, still focused on the ground, and Lucas recognizes it as him avoiding eye contact out of respect for her, so she doesn’t feel embarrassed. He does it during their conversations all the time. If Lucas appreciates it, he can’t imagine how grateful Lola is to not see eyes of disapproval, or judgement. Eliott is simply a vehicle for her emotions to pass through; he is listening.

“This probably sounds ridiculously pessimistic, but....I find it hard to see the point. In anything. In going to school, in forming relationships...in...living. I’m just so, so, tired. I’m only sixteen, and i’m tired. That’s the god honest truth.” Lola’s voice cracks during the last sentence, and it sends an icy chill down Lucas’ spine. What he wouldn’t give to ease this girl’s burdens.

What he hears from his boyfriend in reply shouldn’t surprise him; they talk about everything together. Every ugly, embarrassing, awful fucking thing. So it shouldn’t break his heart as much as it does, because he’s heard it before, but his blood runs cold anyway as Eliott finally looks at Lola again and mournfully says “Three years, five months, and eighteen days ago, I tried to kill myself.” His mouth jerks down uncomfortably before he continues. 

“Whatever you consider a bad place is, I was in it. Things were....not good. I’m bipolar, but at the time I was undiagnosed, so things were happening that felt like...another person was doing. Stealing, not giving a shit about school, weird bursts of excitement at five in the morning, drinking, crushing sadness, fighting with my parents everyday. We all knew something was wrong, but a mental illness?” He huffs out a light laugh. “We couldn’t see that shit show coming a mile away. At the time, I had pushed all of my friends away, which weren’t many to begin with. They all stopped asking and caring. Who could blame them? I...I said so many shitty things.”

He pauses and folds downwards to roll up his right pant leg. There, in the faint morning light, Lucas knows what he’s showing her. He saw them that night they came back to Lucas’ place when he still lived with Manon and Mika. He remembers tracing over them with his fingertips, wordlessly sympathetic. He had looked up at Eliott then, and wanted to reach into his heart and unravel his sadness, like a ribbon. If only it were that clear-cut.

Lola points to her thighs and says bitterly, “great minds think alike.” Eliott covers his mouth to stifle an involuntary snort. He tends to do that a lot when he’s in extreme discomfort.

“So, anyway...my parents found out about me self harming, and I was put in an institution. At the very least, they figured out what was wrong and I got a proper diagnosis. I’ll be honest, I was going through the motions the whole time I was there. Help wasn’t my focus, getting out was.”

Rolling the pant leg back down, he makes a facial expression of unmistakable regret.

“That’s the root of it all, Lola. The desire to receive help. If you don’t have it, existence feels like mere consequence. Waking up is like having pins and needles all over, paralyzing you. People like us, we need other people. Otherwise, we’re just in hell. Simple as that.” His shoulders move as he does that cute little shrug again.

Lola is silent for a few seconds before tentatively asking “Will I always feel this burning pain?”

Eliott doesn’t lie. “Perhaps you will. I can’t predict your future. Just so you know, I still have shitty days all the time. Sometimes I still feel like one enormous burden for everyone, and all I swallow up is fucking dark, blackness. But I have my reasons for staying. You’ll have yours.”

Lola finally lets go of her legs, unfurling and letting her feet touch hardwood. “What makes you stay?”

Eliott attempts to hide a radiant smile, but it blossoms over, making Lucas naturally do the same. He then looks towards the quiet hallway where he locks eyes with him, who has abandoned his attempts at being unseen. Lola follows his eyes, seeing Lucas and scoffing at Eliott’s cheesiness.

“Hell is other people,” he says jovially. “But so is heaven.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you wanna listen to the magnum opus of love songs... ;)
> 
> https://youtu.be/cI0QizfB7qo
> 
> i’m @bluejeancommittee on tumblr, say hi anytime!


End file.
